


pass me a cup of tea while the snow falls over the city

by sherlockislovely



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: ALL THE FLUFF, Established Relationship, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Fluff, M/M, Parentlock, Sleepy Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-09 07:45:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12883296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockislovely/pseuds/sherlockislovely
Summary: it numbs your fingers, but it warms the soul. sherlock has a thing for snow.





	pass me a cup of tea while the snow falls over the city

**Author's Note:**

> Happy December! Excuse me while I go make hot chocolate and re-read Christmas stories.

Sherlock did not hold much opinion on the seasons. Winter was cold, summer was hot, and he didn’t have much else to say beyond that.

The cold of December had fully washed over London and each day seemed to be colder than the last. The temperature had hovered around freezing for several days, flurries threatening to fall from the grey clouds. The first snowflake fell somewhere in Brixton and before long, London had become a city of sparkling white.

And snow - snow was something Sherlock had an opinion on.  
  
The detective blinked his eyes open in the early morning light, the smallest sliver of sunshine peeking through a gap in the curtains. He breathed deeply, running a hand over his face as he rolled onto his back. It was cold, colder than it had been the night before, and he pulled the duvet up over his face in defiance. Defiance to the cold, defiance to the morning light forcing him awake, and defiance to the fact that John had apparently already left the bed, leaving a cold void in his place.  
  
Sherlock lay there for a few minutes, his shallow breath warming the area of the duvet that rested over his mouth. He had almost drifted back to sleep when he heard the faint click of the door handle, the hinges groaning lightly as the door opened.   
  
The wood floor creaked softly, and Sherlock opened his eyes, though all he could see was the dark sheets still covering his eyes. Suddenly, he felt a weight shifting onto the bed.  
  
"Papa." A voice whispered as Sherlock felt the weight climb over his legs and settle onto the middle of the bed. Something, a hand he guessed, was placed on his shoulder, gently shaking it. "Papa, are you awake?"  
  
"No," Sherlock mumbled from under the duvet. He heard a small giggle and he moved the blanket just enough to peak his eyes out above the thick fabric. Squinting, he blinked at the toddler to his side.  
  
"Yes you are!" The blonde girl smiled as she leaned forward, a glint in her eye. "I have something to tell you." She whispered, just loud enough for him to hear. Her breath was a warm contrast to the chilly air suspended in the room.  
  
"Oh? What is that?" Sherlock asked, lowering the blanket lower until his whole face showed. The girl leaned in close, her hands cuffed next to her mouth.  
  
"It's snowing."   
  
Sherlock's eyebrows shot up and he turned his head quickly toward the window. On observation, he found the toddler to be correct, seeing the flurries floating lazily past his window. He turned toward her with a smile.  
  
"Now this is an interesting development." Sherlock said, pulling his hands out from under the covers. He looked at the girl with a smile and patted his chest. "Come 'ere, Rosie."  
  
Rosie climbed on top of Sherlock's chest and lay flat, folding her hands under her chin and looking up at his face with her large doe eyes. Those eyes, sparkling blue and brown. So beautiful, so like John's. He never got tired of those eyes.   
  
As if this comparison summoned him – as if her eyes were magical crystals connected to his - John appeared in the doorway, holding a cup of tea, still steaming in his hands.  
  
"Did I not tell you to let Papa sleep, Rosie?" John said, though his tone was light, and he had a smirk on his lips. Rosie lifted her head but did not move from her bed on Sherlock’s chest.   
  
"But it's snowing, Daddy! Papa loves snow!" She protested, her eyes glancing back down to Sherlock at the end of the statement. Sherlock chuckled; a deep, just-woke-up sort of laugh. John could just about melt at the sound of it. Sherlock lifted his head and put his hands in Rosie’s blonde curls, pulling her face closer to kiss her nose.  
  
"I do, don't I?" Sherlock said. He kissed her nose again and then her chin, and then was placing kisses all over her face as she giggled, squirming away from the small affection.  
  
"Papa!" She squealed as he wrapped his arms around her small shoulders and hugged her against him. Her laughter became muffled into his chest, but it continued all the same.  
  
John watched from the doorway, a smile slapped goofily on his face. He blew on his tea and then attempted to take a sip. He could not look away from the sight of the two. For the life of him, he could not figure out how he could love two separate people so much at once. How could his heart contain it? Surely one day it would just burst from being too full. He didn’t realize he was staring and did not notice his name being called.  
  
"John? John."   
  
He snapped out of his reverie and noticed Sherlock looking at him. John shook his head and focused on the man holding his daughter softly in his arms.   
  
"What?" John asked, shifting slightly onto his better leg. Sherlock looked at him curiously, but eyes shone brightly nonetheless.  
  
"I said good morning."  
  
"Oh, yes. Sorry, love. Mornin'." John replied, having walked to the edge of the bed as he spoke. He leaned down and placed a soft kiss in Sherlock's curls, pausing for a moment to take in his scent. The doctor sat lightly on the edge of the bed. "Sleep well?"  
  
"Decent enough." Sherlock removed one arm from around Rosie and placed his hand on top of Johns, lacing their fingers together. John looking questioningly at the circles under Sherlock’s eyes, but did not comment on it. Sherlock glanced at the cup of tea in John's spare hand. "That for me?" He asked.  
  
"Not necessarily-" John started, though in a split second, the cup was removed from his hands and pressed against Sherlock's lips. The detective took a sip, then grimaced, handing the ceramic dishware back to John.   
  
"Needs sugar." He said. John rolled his eyes, though was careful to avoid Rosie's gaze - he was not fond of the idea of her catching onto that habit.   
  
"Well, it wasn't meant for you, so..." John smiled down, his eyes sparkling brightly. Sherlock was about to make a smart remark, but was cut off by John's lips on his - a soft and innocent kiss, but full of love, desire. They pulled apart, their faces still close enough to feel their breath on each other.   
  
"Oh, we don’t have time for this!" A small voice rang beside them. Rosie poked her head in between the couple, exasperated. "It's snowing!"   
  
"It is an important matter, John." Sherlock stated matter-of-factly, his face almost serious enough to believe. John let out a breathy laugh and leaned away from his partner.   
  
"How about you go pick out a jumper to wear?" John asked in Rosie’s direction, watching the little girl beam up at him before jumping off the bed and racing down the hallway, her feet thumping softly against the floor. John leaned over toward the door, projecting his words in his voice down the hallway. "And socks!"   
  
Sherlock squeezed John's hand as he sat up, leaning back against the headboard. His eyes fluttered slightly before he made an obvious effort to keep them open.  
  
"You were up late. Go back to sleep." John whispered, pushing Sherlock back down and pulling the duvet back over his shoulders. Sherlock tried to stop him but was caught in a yawn during the attempt.  
  
"But... The snow..." Sherlock mumbled, his eyes closing slowly. John placed a hand on his cheek and caressed his jawline softly.   
  
"It'll be there when you wake up. A cup of tea, as well." John whispered, carefully removing himself from the edge of the bed. Sherlock's mouth twitched with sign of a smile, but then he was asleep again and John watched for a moment as his chest rose and fell softly. He leaned over the pale man and pressed a kiss at the edge of his curls. "I love you."   
  
John tiptoed back to the doorway, carefully pulling the door closed, wincing each time the hinges creaked. The door was almost closed when Sherlock mumbled softly into his pillow.  
  
"I love you more." His groggy voice said before he rolled onto his side and breathed in, a soft snore released from his mouth. John closed the door the rest of the way, a cheeky grin on his face.   
  
_Not possible_ , he thought. The snow continued to fall. 


End file.
